


Submersion

by helena_s_renn



Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: Bathtub Sex, M/M, Shaving, bathing together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 12:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17467961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: They just needed some time to relax, care for each other and be together.Stroke, stroke, rinse.





	Submersion

**Author's Note:**

> The video in question is DL's Personal Jesus. 
> 
> Assume it's a bathtub of epic proportions.

-2018, December

Joe stands naked by the tub, pouring oil. Sandlewood, cucumber, cardamom. Woody and aged, fresh, sweet. Scents of his lover, who lolls in the water, eyes roving him with as much heat and a lot more love than when they fell for each other, somewhere between towns on the road back in the early '80s. Having the full attention of the man gazing at him like that makes him ache. His own essence, just a drop, diffuses into the steaming water. 

"It's finally over," Sav states. He closes his eyes, tipping his head back into the water. His hair has never been this long, it's like blond seaweed in the slight current. 

"We never have to do it again," Joe declares. One foot comes up to rest on the side of the tub.

Sav opens his eyes, ears still underwater but he's heard or extrapolated the meaning. "But we will. Always a next time." He smiles and sits up, water streaming down his back. "Get in here." 

They settle together with Joe behind. He's still hard. Otherwise, heavy, relaxed, their bodies mold into long-familiar patterns, buoyed up as the water approaches their necks. The spigot is on the side: Joe shuts off the flow and reaches for a razor. "Can I...?" 

"If you like." 

"I like. You know that. Lay out..." 

Sav lets his body float, head resting on Joe's shoulder. Long arms reach and support him, drawing the razor again and again across his chest working downward little by little. The oils in the water make shaving cream unnecessary; the hairs are sparce, fine, almost transparent, and float away like water bugs clinging to the surface. Stroke, stroke, rinse. 

"You know, you came off as slightly unhinged in that video." There is no judgment in Joe's voice. 

"So...? I have my dark side, too. You know I don't like any kind of religious gobblety-gook. If I have to sing words like 'touch faith', they can see what the other side of that looks like."

"I'll tell you what it looked like. Maybe borderline cracked, but the sexiest man on the face of the earth." Scrape, scrape, rinse. Joe reaches the navel that gave him ammunition for such a statement.

"Oh, please," groans Sav, "I saw the finished product. My belly wobbled. A bunch of times."

"And mine doesn't?" Joe chuckles. "Meanwhile we're teased by leather-clad hipbones, thirty-eight flashes of your navel, and only the first two inches of your zipper. Fucker. I needed an inhaler or summat, after I saw it." Then he offers, throaty, "Shall I continue?" 

"If you want me smooth as a baby. G'on." Sav purrs. He spreads his legs. 

But Joe thinks again, and declines. He's hurting by now. He needs. "Nah. Ready to make a mess?" 

"Why d'yeh think I had drains put in the floor?" Sav asks lightly, while he drags Joe's hand down again. Oil shines on his newly bared torso, and the fat purple length resting on the region of his vexation. 

A lot of water is down the drain and under the bridge. Two slippery men ride it out as they can in only this space; each move must be balanced yet fluid. Their peak is undersea, a submersion. 

After, breathing again, there's thick fluffy toweling on the floor and for their bodies. "When will we tell everyone?" asks Joe. 

Sav pats his belly, snorting, "When this is gone."

"No Christmas candy for you!" 

"Probably not. Metabolism isn't what it used to be. New Years Day?" Sav suggests, placing his hand over Joe's heart. 

A nod, a kiss. When their lips touch, the world stands still, only moving when they move. They're twined around each other somehow, quivering both interest and cold. "Bed now," Joe rasps. "We can make ourselves feel like we're 27 again. Got some ideas." 

It may take some time, but this night isn't over. Not at all. Sav has no doubts that Joe can take him back to any era he wants with words and reminders. But this present one is fine, too. "Fifty-eight is good, too. A new year, and a new chapter." 

 

Fin.


End file.
